We have arrived at that time of year, haven’t we? It is the season of Advent, the season of preparation and repentance; the season of holy reflection; the season of way-too-long to-do lists and overbooked calendars and never-ending checkout lines.
It is the beginning of the year according to the church calendar. According to the church calendar, the new year begins with the first Sunday of Advent. It is the last few weeks of the year according to the secular calendar. Soon, 2009 will become 2010.
It is a season for looking back and looking forward. It is a season for imagining how things could be, and taking stock of how things are. It is a season of despair, and it is a season of hope.
There is something special and different about the season of Advent, but the season does not come to us in a vacuum. In other words, Advent does not take us out of this world. It provides us with no escape. Advent comes to us, as all things do, in a specific place and time. Generally speaking, the place is here, and the time is now.
More specifically, the place is Long Beach, California, one of the world’s most beautiful and diverse communities, in the midst of one of the world’s largest metropolitan areas; a community that is good in so many ways, but which also struggles with issues such as drugs, crime, and gangs;… and, specifically, the time is 2009, a year which saw economic recession, the inauguration of the United States’ first African-American president, the worst wildfire in L.A. County history, global fears over the H1N1 virus, and the death of Michael Jackson. It is the year in which the New Oxford American Dictionary named “unfriend” as the word of the year.
2,000 years ago, the world was, in many ways, a very different place. The gospel of Luke is very specific about the historical context in which the ministry of John the Baptist—and subsequently, Jesus—took place.
It was, as Luke says, the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius. It is very clear that the entire gospel story took place in the context of Roman government and domination. We often overlook this fact, but we shouldn’t. The gospel story took place, Luke says, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea and when Herod ruled over Galilee.
This picture that Luke paints, a picture of a society under Roman imperial domination, is important to the gospel story, and Luke uses it as a framework within which the story is told.
As anyone in the first century would know, the rulers at the various levels of government existed and were supported through the heavy taxation of their people. They built lavish palaces and even entire cities, all of which were financed through the taxes that were levied on those who had very little income to begin with. The rulers knew just how much they could tax without sending the people into rioting or revolting. They could get away with quite a bit, especially since the penalty for rioting or stirring rebellion—death by crucifixion—lessened the risk that such unrest would occur.
It was a time when the highest religious leaders colluded with the governing officials in an effort to maintain order among the people—and a high social standing for themselves. Some people worked as tax collectors, figuring it was safer and easier to work with the governing authorities than to stand against them. But in the eyes of the people, all they did was help the rich get richer, while the poor got even poorer. In fact, so many were unable to keep up with the taxes and tributes required of them, that the number of people who lost their land, who lost their children to slavery, or who were forced into slavery themselves, grew day by day.
Into this world came John the Baptist. Into this world, he preached his message of equality and justice, saying that every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked will be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth. Into this world, he proclaimed repentance. “Turn from this world,” he said, “and embrace a new world. Turn from this kingdom, and embrace the kingdom of God.”
Into this world came Jesus of Nazareth. Into this world, he also preached a message of equality and justice, declaring that God had anointed him to bring good news to the poor, a declaration that directly contradicted the emperor’s claim that good news came from him. Into this world Jesus proclaimed that God’s kingdom had come to earth, that it was now at hand; it was a new, alternative kingdom, quite unlike the kingdom of the emperor; a new world, quite unlike the world people saw around them.
The kingdom of God—when is it coming? It comes in the midst of human history. It comes in the 15th year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius. It comes in the first year of the presidency of Barack Obama.
Where will the kingdom come? It comes wherever God’s people dwell. It comes to Jerusalem, to the region around the Jordan. It comes to the United States. It comes to Long Beach and Lakewood and Seal Beach and Signal Hill.
The kingdom comes right here, right now; it is, as Luke quotes Jesus in chapter 17: not far; it is among you and within you.
The kingdom exists wherever and whenever valleys are exalted and hills are made low. The kingdom exists wherever and whenever the crooked paths are made straight and the rough ways are made smooth. The kingdom exists wherever and whenever wholeness comes to a fragmented world, when peace comes, when all people have a fair distribution of the earth’s resources, and when the disparities between rich and poor cease to exist.
Over the years, there has been some confusion and misunderstanding concerning the kingdom of God. Instead of being here and now, it has been described as a place far away, in a time that is yet to come. In addition, it has been described as coming violently; visions of rapture, and of a warrior Jesus carrying a mighty sword come to mind.
People seem obsessed by these ideas. Fred Craddock has said that he wonders if people are so obsessed with the second coming because, deep down, they were greatly disappointed in Jesus’ first coming. Jesus didn’t come with a sword the first time, although some expected him to, and so it’s not likely that he will return with a sword. The kingdom he proclaimed is not established through a violent cataclysm, even though some people, when they hear that, they are indeed disappointed. The kingdom is a kingdom of hope. It is a kingdom of peace. It is a kingdom of wholeness, healing, and salvation.
Such a kingdom cannot and will not come about through violence, destruction, and death.
The kingdom of God is sometimes called the kingdom of heaven, and some people mistakenly believe that the kingdom only exists in some far away place, or that the gospel is only about what happens after we die. But as Shane Claiborne writes in the December 2009 issue of Esquire magazine, “the message of the gospel is not just about going up when we die but about bringing God’s kingdom down.”
Brian McLaren describes the kingdom as “God’s dreams coming true for this earth,… in history,… in this life.” Luke makes it very clear that this is true, that the kingdom takes place now, in the midst of human history. Luke makes it very clear that the kingdom of God takes place in the midst of human governments; in the midst of human oppression and injustice; in the midst of the world in which we live.
Brian McLaren also says that the kingdom takes place whenever God’s justice and peace replace earth’s injustice and disharmony. There is obviously a lot of injustice and disharmony in the world today, just as there was 2,000 years ago. It is true that God’s dreams are not yet fully realized, that the kingdom is not yet fully realized.
And yet, in many ways, justice and peace are being realized … and every time that happens, God’s dream for humanity is made present. Every time that happens, the kingdom is made real.
Every time a hungry child is given something to eat … and every time the policies and social systems that allow children to go hungry are challenges … the kingdom is made real and present.
Every time a stranger, foreigner, or outsider is made to feel welcome, and at home … the kingdom is made real and present.
Every time a person discovers the truth, that happiness comes not from material wealth but from spiritual wealth … the kingdom is made real and present.
Every time a person, a group, a corporation, or a nation forgives a debt, demonstrates compassion, or works to replace conflict with peace … the kingdom is made real and present.
Every time a bridge of understanding and friendship is built across differences of race or religion … the kingdom is made real and present.
Every time the systems of oppression are challenged—systems that deny certain groups of people their rights—the kingdom is made real and present.
Every time individuals or groups of people put care for the earth and all who dwell on it ahead of their own personal interests, the kingdom is made real and present.
The message of the gospel—the good news proclaimed by John and by Jesus—is a message of hope; it is a hope that is fulfilled through the church, which engages in these kingdom-building activities.
The kingdom of God is not far from you. It is among you. It is within you. It is present, now, in our time.
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